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"In English, please."
"The physics involved in these weapons is very precise. If," Reimer made a ball with his hands, "the explosive charge that is placed around the nuclear material fails to detonate perfectly, critical mass cannot be obtained. Does that make sense?"
McMahon and Rapp nodded.
"Well, on occasion, the conventional explosive would misfire. We wouldn't reach critical mass, and we'd move on to the next test. If it wasn't too much work, we'd try and retrieve the nuclear material from the hole, but more often than not we simply left it buried down there. Now, knowing how the Soviets operate, my guess is they never even thought of retrieving the material from their failed tests."
"Why not?" asked a surprised McMahon.
"In the fifties and sixties we were churning out so much of this stuff that it was a lot easier to start with a fresh batch than go down into a collapsed, radioactive hot hole to salvage a hunk of junk that was extremely dangerous and that might or might not have been cost effective to reprocess."
"So," Rapp was starting to piece things together, "this Kazakh test site is littered with how many duds?"
"We're not sure," Reimer answered.
"Take a guess?"
"Maybe a dozen. Maybe more."
Rapp's mouth opened in disbelief. "Why the hell have I never heard of this threat before?"
"Because it wasn't actually deemed a threat. This Kazakh test site is a radioactive wasteland. The idea of someone trying to dig one of these things up is ludicrous. If you don't have the proper equipment, you're going to die. And even if you do have the proper equipment, you'd better be quick about it."
Rapp buried his face in his hands. "Or you could just promise a bunch of young Islamic radical fundamentalists an express ticket to paradise." Rapp stood and looked at his phone.
"Is this test site still in operation?" McMahon asked.
"No."
"Is it guarded?"
"It's over two hundred thousand square miles."
"So it's not guarded?" asked a disappointed McMahon.
"No."
"Oh, this is bad," said Rapp.
"Maybe maybe not." Reimer tried to keep an upbeat attitude. "The Russians are looking into it. My counterpart is on his way down there right now with a team to investigate."
"Who else have you told?" Rapp asked.
"Just you two. Considering the circus we went through earlier in the week, I didn't want to get people too riled up."
Rapp nodded. "I don't blame you. Skip, what do you think?"
"Did you find anything on that raid that would point to a second bomb?"
Rapp thought about it for a moment. "No."
McMahon contemplated the manhunt that was already underway. "Virtually every law enforcement officer in the country has seen the sketch of al-Yamani and the photograph of Zubair. Thanks to the info you got over in Afghanistan, we've got a good lead on the terror cells here in America. We're going to be serving a batch of arrest warrants this afternoon from here to Atlanta and beyond. I say we wait to hear back from the Russians, and see if we catch any breaks on the home front."
"I agree," replied Rapp. "Let's keep this between the three of us until we know more. I don't need any more lawyers from Justice telling me what the rules are, and the president and his people are busy enough getting ready for tomorrow's dedication."
* * *
Sixty-Four
